


The Butchers Of Hell's Kitchen

by StripedScribe



Series: Febuwhump2021 [12]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Cults, Evil Foggy Nelson, Gangs, Gen, Human Trafficking, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mob Boss Foggy Nelson, Murder, Mutants, Secret Identity, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: The Butchers of Hell’s Kitchen, so called for the gruesome ways they left anyone who dared to cross them. A gang filling the gaps in society, replacing crime pockets Daredevil had cleared. Their reach across the Kitchen, and spreading out of it, interfering in everything and anything. Their leader unknown, a name behind the screen, known only as Razor.Committing terrible crimes that Matt had no choice but to try and stop. Until rumour spread of Razor holding a meeting, a perfect opportunity to be taken down.A perfect trap for the DevilFebuWhump Day 12 [Who Are You]
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Febuwhump2021 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136723
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Butchers Of Hell's Kitchen

The Butchers of Hell’s Kitchen, so called for the gruesome ways they left anyone who dared to cross them. A gang filling the gaps in society, replacing crime pockets Daredevil had cleared. Their reach across the Kitchen, and spreading out of it, interfering in everything and anything.

And for the Devil, their reach was impossible to control. New members constantly joining, turned from good lives, adopted from dying gangs, an insurmountable army of killers and dealers. Their leader, known by none of them, a name behind a screen, Razor. The ones he could corner, could question, giving nothing, a dead end chase around the city, looking for someone who didn’t appear to exist.

Razor didn’t get their hands dirty. Never appeared on the streets, was never heard of as actually speaking to anyone. Even the leaders of factions, had only ever had messages, or at best phone calls with warped voices. Getting everyone else to do their dirty work.

As the Butchers’ network around the city grew, smaller gangs collapsed, under their hands, and the Devils’. People scared off the streets, many running the wrong way, into the hands of the gang, promises of support from the recruiters, false words of family. A cult, a gang, known to everyone.

Everyone knew someone who was a Butcher. Who worked for them, believed in them and their visions.

Everyone knew someone who had died because of the Butchers, been taken, been killed in their wicked games. 

Everyone knew they were unstoppable. A tangled bramble, choking the city, a sole fighter trying to cut them down. He targeted recruiters, aiming to isolate groups, turn them back to the good fight. But it was in vain, a cult they couldn’t leave. A cult they didn’t know they could leave. And so they killed, and trafficked, and did awful things to innocent people, paid through unnamed checks, deposits into hidden accounts. And in an area named Hell, it was all they could do to survive.

Matt could see the appeal. Truly, he could, in a world in which they fought against each other, it was something to be accepted, even in this misshapen families cult. But not against the innocent. Not through trafficking, through murdering people in the wrong place, the wrong time. Not hurting children, stealing them from their families. Not targeting innocents who looked at the wrong thing, not cops pretending to be helpful, and just murdering children. Because of the way they looked, because of the way they acted, because it was easier.

Nothing in this world was easy.

Trying to take down the Butchers, to find the head, to dismantle it. But Razor was just a voice in the wind. Hiding themselves from the people they led, and their enemies. Controlling their puppets, a session with the one treated as a leader, showing even she knew nothing about the person issuing the orders. The person with a monopoly over everything and everyone in the city.

And then rumours started to spread of a meeting. Whispers on street corners, phone calls with locations. Of Razor wanting to finally meet his leaders, the people who had won him the city. A perfect opportunity for the Devil to strike, to find out who this leader was, and take them down. Before they took over the city. Ruined the city.

He was exhausted. Night after night feeling like he was chasing rumours, days of pretending everything was fine, the same fear of the city shared by everyone in the office. That one day it would all be over, that they would lose. Chatter about the man in the mask, Karen’s false hope that he could save the city. Foggy’s down to earth approach, that he was in over his head, that the Devil was trying to do too much alone. At least he was trying, Matt had to add.

All they could do was help to pick up the pieces. Glue together the families ruined by the Butchers, fight the good fight.

Shackled by the law, it only added fuel to Matt’s fire. Fuel to burn in the evening, to fight, to defend, to cut back more of the creeping vines snaring around the office. To keep it a safe haven against the gang’s havoc whirling outside their lives.

An address led him to a restaurant, right on the outskirts of his territory. Abandoned, owners unable to keep up with the rent, landlord a Butcher. He’d been there before, following trades, drugs exchanged in the dead of night, teens caught up in it all, runners for the mob. At the time, he’d tried to bargain with them, plead with them, to not do this, to give it in.

But they were tricked, caught up in a lie of grandeur waiting for them. Told it would be over, after this job, after the next job, in the future. A better future, to save their families, to save their friends. Thinking they were doing the right thing.

Only to be killed when they took a step out of line. Childless parents waiting for a ghost to come home, for a body to be found abandoned. And they were the lucky ones.

An ever moving group of monsters was experimenting on children. Trying to force mutations, to make them stronger. Promises of a better future, curing diseases, achieving immortality. Orphans, lost children, parents sobbing at home. A trail of bodies, twisted beyond recognition, in a search for superheroes. Super-villains, moulded to the Butcher’s beliefs, in children who burned themselves up for a chance to escape.

Hell’s Kitchen’s name had never seen more apt than in these dark times. Its people powerless, afraid to go out at night, stories turned into myths. Even those caught up in the middle of it couldn’t tell the truth from the lies, couldn’t tell him what was real. Even the impossible was spoken as truth.

It couldn’t all be true. Everything he had heard couldn’t be true, there couldn’t be that much evil in the world. One person couldn’t be capable of all of this, this overlord of darkness, Razor.

He had to take this opportunity. To venture out to the meeting place, identify Razor, take them out and down. Destroy the head, and the rest of the cult would fall with it. Capture them, question them, shrink down their reach over the city, rescue the innocents, hope that their followers could still change, could still find a better life.

As he got closer, he slowed, listening from a distance, something not seeming right. The restaurant was empty, besides one heartbeat. Alone, calm, it was famili-

Foggy.

How, why did they have Foggy. Did they know who was behind the mask?

He couldn’t wait. He knew it was empty, he had to get Foggy out of there, before they came back.

Sprinting over rooftops, he smashed through the window of the restaurant, skidding to a stop in front of Foggy. Too late, noticing the smell of gunpowder, the metallic shape of a gun in his hand. This wasn’t right.

“Finally, the fabled Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. How I’ve longed to actually meet you.”

Panic and confusion filled his mind. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“You’ve been ruining my work, ruining my men. I can’t have that.”

This wasn’t real. How could this be real? This couldn’t be Foggy stood in front of him.

“Razor. Who are you really? The man behind it all, hiding behind the screen, lying to the people around him.” He was going to have to reveal it all. Their matching lies leading to this. “How similar our lives are.”

“I should ask you who you are, but I really don’t care.” The gun in Foggy’s hand was lifted, and suddenly Matt couldn’t breathe.

“You really don’t want to do that.”

“It would make all of our lives a lot easier. Eternal peace for you, and for me, the freedom to rule my city. You must be tired of this endless fight.”

The gun pointing at his chest, he tried to stare down Foggy. His best friend, instantly turned nemesis. “You don’t deserve this city.”

“Oh, but I do. I’ve poured so much time into it, the advancements I can make if I don’t have to spend my life chasing after the likes of you. I think killing the Devil would be a clear sign to everyone where I stand. God knows enough people have tried to take you off this earth, and they’ve all failed. Turns out it just needs big enough bait to get you alone.”

He couldn’t think of the right words to say. Couldn’t even think of him as Foggy anymore.

A cold chill rushed over him as he realised he wasn’t getting out of here alive, that every decision he ran through his mind would result in him bleeding out on the floor. He’d been lied to, for years. The person he thought to be a brother just a mask for this evil.

“I’m not getting out of here alive, am I?” He sighed, a glance up to the sky. “I can hear your followers surrounding this place, there’s a gun at my heart.”

“You’re too dangerous to keep alive.”

“And yet you’re stalling. Anyone else, in this opportunity, I’d be on the floor bleeding out by now. You’re too much of a chatterbox Nelson, wasting time like-”

BANG

* * *

BANG

“Who are you to know my name?” The body of the masked man lay on the floor, a puddle of blood slowly spreading. “You can’t know my name. No one knows my name, I’m a nobody. Razor is all you should care about.”

He was dead now, too late to ask a cooling corpse questions. Time to let the clean-up crew in, dispose of the body. It was freeing, to be able to murder and know that no one would ask questions, the cops on his side, and now with the death of the Devil, the city was his. No gangs, no one brave enough to oppose him. Forget the life of Nelson, Razor was all he needed now. Forget that tiny office and a fake job and too much money lining his pockets. Forget the laptop hidden in a faraday cage, his one connection to his people. He was stepping up and out, cut away everything holding him to the softer world.

He glance back at the body, curiosity creeping up his spine. He had to know. He had to put a face to the man who had managed to slow him this much.

Gently, he stepped over the blood, crouching down beside him. A pathetic outfit, jeans, black shirt, rope wrapped hands. A black mask to hide his identity, simple to remove. A simple man to kill.

He lifted the mask of his trophy.

.

.

.

It was telling to how he’d grown, that he barely reacted. You’d expect, after murdering the person you called your partner, you’d scream, you’d shout and cry. But he felt nothing but satisfaction. A job well done.

They’d both been lying to each other.

It seemed only fitting that it would end this way. One dead at the hands of the other.

He pulled the mask back down, and stepped away from the body, leaving it to his team to deal with. He had work to do. No point dwelling on the past.

**Author's Note:**

> Hands out tissues


End file.
